Something I can never have
by Nothingatall11
Summary: Derek Morgan doesn't want to smile every time he hears statistics.     Reid/Morgan slash


**Warning: Slash. Seriously, its only about slash this one.  
Timeframe: Later in the series, season 4 or 5 maybe.  
Comment: Inspired by the song _Something I can never have _by Nine Inch Nails. **

_I still recall the taste of your tears_  
_Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears_  
_My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore_  
_Scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep_  
_Anymore_

**Derek Morgan doesn't sleep.**  
Sure, he gets the occasional shut-eye, whenever the exhaustion gets to great. Garcia likes to say that it's more like passing out than sleeping, really. She worries and keeps bugging him for an explanation, but Morgan can't talk to her, not about this.

While they're on a case, he works most of the nights and sleeps on a couch for a few hours in the early mornings. Not more than three. It's the days off that's really difficult. He gets restless, then exhausted, then he gets restless again. And only sleeping in the mornings doesn't work as well when he's home. He still dreams. Pacing the apartment doesn't help, and even though the coffee helps him stay conscious it makes his hands shake, and his mind wander.

It's the wandering of the mind that is dangerous.  
Because no matter how hard he tries to keep from dreaming…. No matter how much he keeps the thoughts pushed far back into his head…

When his mind wanders, they reappear.

The thoughts of someone he could never have.

**Derek Morgan doesn't want.**  
He doesn't want to smile every time he hears statistics. It doesn't even matter who says them anymore, they always make him twitch in the corner of his mouth, and makes his insides warm and tingly. Then he remembers why he mustn't smile, and pushes the smile away. He rarely dares to smile at all recently, because every time he has to think back at why he is smiling, and if it is because of _that_ again. Because he knows it's wrong, and neither fair to himself nor…

He doesn't want to say his name, doesn't even dare to think about it. Because it makes him too happy. Because feeling happy makes him feel guilty.

He doesn't want to stay in his presence. It makes it harder to _not think._

He doesn't want to reach out and brush the curls away from his eyes whenever they end up in the way. _He doesn't. Really. But his hands seem to want to act on their own. _Then he does it himself, and the moment is over. The_ danger _is over.  
_**  
**_

He doesn't want something he can never have.

_You make this all go away_  
_I'm down to just one thing_  
_And I'm starting to scare myself_

**  
Derek Morgan doesn't need.  
**He doesn't need anyone. He has been doing his job for many years. He can handle the dangers, the tragedies, the blood. And if a certain case creeps under his skin and doesn't seem to leave his mind, he deals with it on his own.

He doesn't need to feel the touch of those hands against his again, warm against his skin.

He doesn't need the feel of those arms around him, in a friendly hug, telling him that it will be all right. Not like they did that time, that time that started all of this, that time when Morgan realized that something about him was wrong.

He doesn't need to tell him_,_ to whisper in his ear. _"You make this all go away" _

Because it would be too selfish, too wrong.

He doesn't need to take him in his arms every time he closes up, leaving everyone out.

He doesn't need to lie to anyone, except himself.

He doesn't need something he can never have

_I still recall the taste of your tears_  
_Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears_  
_My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore_  
_Scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep_  
_Anymore_

**Spencer Reid doesn't sleep.  
**He stays up most nights, reading, analyzing, and thinking. Being a genius hardly lets your mind get any rest. Because everything is associated with something, and that starts a trail of thoughts that mostly end up in some form of statistics. And then he associates that with something else. He can think about 20 good statistics in just a few minutes. But he doesn't really mind, because numbers are easy. Uncomplicated. Not like people. He knows all the statistics, he knows all the psychology, he knows all the behavioral patterns. He's read all the books about it.

But some people continue to baffle him. And so he spends the hours that he's supposed to sleep, analyzing and trying to figure out why he could no longer speak casually and comfortably with one of his co-workers. So he closes his eyes and tries to find the logical reason.

He already knows his own reason for being nervous around him_._

It is because he wants something he can never have.

**Spencer Reid doesn't want.  
**He doesn't want to laugh whenever he says something that's supposed to be funny. Most of the time he doesn't even think it is. But his smile… is contagious. So he cannot help but smile along, laugh along.

He doesn't want to miss that smile whenever it's gone, or feel the urge to make it all better again, somehow.

He doesn't want to say his name. Because he is afraid that if he does his voice will betray something. Something that he doesn't want to share with anyone.

He doesn't want to be too close to him. Because he knows that makes him uncomfortable.

It tells him that those dreams of his will never be anything but just dreams. Dreams and hopes and lies.

He doesn't want to hope, every time he feels his gaze on his back, for something more.

He doesn't want to hope for something that he can never have.

_You make this all go away_  
_I'm down to just one thing_  
_And I'm starting to scare myself_

**Spencer Reid doesn't need.  
**He doesn't need anyone. He might be the youngest on the team, but he has taken care of himself, and others, all his life. Nothing has changed that now. Now and then he'd be feeling a little low, of course, who doesn't? But he'd just bury himself in some interesting mathematics or case and then he'd feel better.

He doesn't need to think back to the time when he took those hands in his, when he felt that skin against his palm. Not in the middle of the night when nothing else makes the memories go away, and the sound of the rain on the window cannot block out the sound of the world that seems closing in on him.

He doesn't need to hug him again, to feel him so close and so warm and so hurt like that time…

He doesn't need to tell him, "You make this all go away"

He doesn't need to lie to anyone, except himself.

He doesn't need something he can never have.


End file.
